Irrelevance

Vanity

"I mean like- you know! It's like, like- like you know!"

No. I honestly didn't know.

I also found it incomprehensible as to why the word 'like' had to be applied into her sentences so repetitiously.

I didn't state any of this out loud though; I would never dare.

Not to say that I was scared of her, just merely of the impact my words would have on my life.

Surely, if I actually for once, god forbid, stated my opinion, I wouldn't quite get a theatric laugh from the audience like they do in those old, funny sitcoms.

No, instead I'd be faced with more of her melodramatics and incessant babbling about my problems.

My problems?

More like her problems with me.

So it was pretty conclusive as to why I watched her wordlessly nodding and shaking my head, not giving the time of day as to actually process what she was saying. I watched her mouth move continuously and kept track of her lucid facial expressions and eccentric hand gestures as to decide on as to whether or not to agree or disagree. Moreover though, I observed her as if examining a specimen in my science class.

I began wondering upon the variables that made her so popular and desirable, just to keep me from stabbing myself with my fork.

Clearly she swayed the female population with her seemingly endless streams of gossip and blackmail, not to mention her overbearing personality.

As for the male population...

It was self explanatory.

She was groomed to perfection and seemed constantly ready to pop up at a photo shoot.

Never did it seem, even in the worst of weather, was a hair on her head out of place.

Never was an outfit not perfect for her. In fact, she could probably wear a potato sack and rock it.

Never did she ever have a moments worth of actual vulnerability, misconception or embarrassment. It was as if the universe cleared away all of her problems for her.

Most of all though, never did she miss an opportunity to admire herself. She'd soak in every compliment, sarcastic or not, and used it to inflate her ego and add to her bravado.

She'd admire herself in every single reflective surface she'd come across, and as if to prove my point I watched her stare into her reflection on the metallic knife she was using to cut apart her food with.

It was then that I wondered when conversations with her had become more of a tedious task than a form of connection.

Clearly then I must've lost a connection somewhere within her inflated ego.

Discreetly I pictured her head inflating with each word she said and I forced down a bittersweet smile as I imagined taking a pin and just popping it, watching it make obnoxious fart noises as it whizzed around the place.

I was brought back from my fantasy when she stood up.

"I mean she is like, so obsessed with herself right? She's like, like- like you know..."

"Vain," I supplied for her, finding it suitably ironic.

"Yeah!" She shouted as she careless tossed the money on our table.

"I should totally like, give her a reality check! I mean she's like just so vain!"

Said the pot to the kettle...

"Vain indeed," I agreed looking directly at her with a roll of my eyes.

She didn't notice though as she stared at herself through the windows reflexion.

It was times like these I wondered upon beauty.

Does it really change a person?

Does it make you vain?

Or is it all just another of life's facades.